Can she find a name for naked, beaten amnesiac?

A time-regression photo of Benjaman Kyle as he currently looks, at left, as he may have looked in his forties, center, and in his twenties, right. KATHERINE SLATER, THE DOE NETWORK

1 of 6

Colleen Fitzpatrick keeps in touch with friend Terry Threadway of Lake Charles Lousiana on Skype. The two have become friends. Threadway is the grand-daughter of James Smithers, who is believed to be a whistle-blower in the Teapot Dome scandal and dissap ANA VENEGAS, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

1 of 6

Colleen Fitzpatrick holds the 1910 photo that started it all. She analyzed a Fitzpatrick photo for a distant cousin and identified the ancestor as her great-grandfather. She identified the exact location, time of day and date, but she could not pick out ANA VENEGAS, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

1 of 6

Photo analysis is one of the tools in solving mysteries for forensic genealogist Colleen Fitzpatrick. Here she describes how she discovered the time and place of a historical photograph. She has solved some very impressive missing person mysteries. ANA VENEGAS, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

1 of 6

DNA detective Colleen Fitzpatrick, of Fountain Valley, solves a wide assortment of mysteries. She is a nuclear physicist and forensic genealogist who is called on to find people. She also is an accomplished puzzle-master. ANA VENEGAS, THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

1 of 6

A man who now goes by Benjaman Kyle was found naked and beaten behind a dumpster. He has no memory of his past and Colleen Fitzpatrick of Fountain Valley, is trying to find it. JOHN CARRINGTON, SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS

Truth is, no one knows who amnesia victim "B.K. Doe" is. Not he. Not the posters at websleuth.com. Not the viewers of Dr. Phil.

Not even DNA detective Colleen Fitzpatrick – and she's never been stumped.

"I just don't know how to find out who the guy is," says the former nuclear physicist who's written three books on finding people.

She came closest in Colorado when three callers suggested the same restaurant manager; two described a scar he has; and one claimed to have dated him.

"We had look-alikes and sound-familiars," she says, "but nobody knows who he is."

Fitzpatrick once helped the military identify a severed arm from 1948. And three teeth from a Titanic victim's grave. She knows how to find people.

But, this time, even she's going to need a little luck.

LONGSHOTS

The trouble in this case is that everything is upside-down and backwards.

Give Fitzpatrick a name and she can find the person – seven generations and two continents away. But how do you identify a person with no name? No past? No records? No one to call? Nothing to research?

You can't. So she's stuck with two long-shots.

One is they'll get a DNA match – in a database of a quarter-million. The other is that someone eventually will recognize him.

"Somewhere, this guy had next-door neighbors, family, friends," Fitzpatrick says. "He went to the grocery store, the dentist, the pharmacist."

As such, she's traipsed through four states giving interviews, chasing leads, telling his tale to everyone who'll listen – including Newsweek, which is preparing a story.

The weird theories keep mounting. One message-board poster suggested his amnesia was caused by aliens who abducted him then washed his memory clean.

"If I wanted to make money," jokes B.K., "I'd push that angle."

The truth, however, might be more ominous. And might explain why no one's come forward.

WHAT IF?

This is what we know:

In 2004, he was found naked and beaten beside a Burger King dumpster in Georgia. He had no memory or I.D. so the hospital nicknamed him Burger King "B.K." Doe. For months, he bounced from shelter to clinic to hospital.

"I felt like a piece of offal that everyone wanted to get rid of," he says.

Without an I.D., he couldn't get formal employment. But he was industrious enough that a Savannah homeless clinic made him resident manager – without pay. Two years later, a nurse intervened.

"He was working 16 hours a day – it was slave labor," says Katherine Slater, a kindly grandmother who took him in and became his advocate.

She started simple: police reports, missing-persons records. She got serious: FBI fingerprinting, military databases. And ended desperate: psychics, Dr. Phil, the National Enquirer.

None of it helped.

When Fitzpatrick came on board, she tried a new tack – targeting states where BK might've lived.

He recalled stores in downtown Indianapolis so they went there. He recalled a library and restaurant in Boulder so they went there. His DNA linked loosely to a Powell family in Kansas, so they went there.

They collected more than 30 leads. Dead-ends, all. Which begs the question: Why isn't anyone looking for BK Doe?

Slater has a theory: "This stinks of foul play," she says.

Maybe the person they're looking for is the one who caused this. Or maybe the person they're looking for already collected the insurance.

That would explain why no one – in five years – has ever come looking for BK Doe.

MYSTERY MAN

What's it like to be a 60-something Mystery Man who can't remember his past?

"I try to avoid thinking about it," he says.

He's been disappointed too often. Every time a reporter calls, it's: We're going to solve this case. Every new DNA test, it's: We're going to come up with the answer.

"It's been five years and it hasn't happened," he says. "I'm not getting my hopes up."

Without an I.D. he can't get employment, unemployment, insurance, a driver's license. Without an I.D., he can't even get into some homeless shelters.

He relies on the good will of people like Slater and Fitzpatrick, who help him at no charge.

"Without them," he says, "I'd be sleeping under a bridge. I'm very thankful."

If this were a movie, you'd hear the music swell now and Fitzpatrick would rush in the door with the answer.

But this is life. And in life, you don't always get an answer.

So B.K. Doe waits. And so does Fitzpatrick.

"I identify with him," she says. "I like him. I'd like to help him get back on track. And I'd like to know his story – the big picture again."

The big picture. That's what drives the DNA Detective, a modest woman with a huge intellect – and heart.

That's what she saw in the case of the Arm in the Snow – when the entire town of Askeaton, Ireland, embraced her. And in the case of the Titanic's Unknown Child – when a worldwide family of Goodwins embraced her.

"You get a glimpse of how we're all connected," she says. "Not just to our relatives. It's not me, my family. It's us, humans. It's spiritual. We're all connected in a big way."

Her longest case too six years to solve. This one? She doesn't know.

"Sometimes you think, 'Man, this is never going to happen.' Then, boom, the answer comes."

All she can do at this point is ask for help. If you recognize his picture, call. If you're a Powell, take a DNA test. If you have a lead, contact the DNA Detective – if you can catch her when she's not solving cases for the U.S. Military, writing puzzles for Games magazine ... or rocking her pet parrot to sleep.

User Agreement

Keep it civil and stay on topic. No profanity, vulgarity, racial
slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about
tragedies will be blocked. By posting your comment, you agree to
allow Orange County Register Communications, Inc. the right to
republish your name and comment in additional Register publications
without any notification or payment.